


Frozen Darkness

by Tonight_At_Noon



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonight_At_Noon/pseuds/Tonight_At_Noon
Summary: Following a power outage on Hoth, Cassian discovers Jyn's fear of the dark.





	1. Blackout

**Author's Note:**

> This three-shot will span three years. One chapter for each year. There is constant argument between Star Wars fans regarding the amount of time the Rebels spent on Hoth, but I'm calling artistic license and making it three years. Just to make my life a little easier.

The hour is late as he walks with her in the direction of her room. Their evening had been partially enjoyable. A celebration of their successful mission to steal the Death Star plans the previous year. If he does not think of all of the men and women who had given their lives for the cause, of the families and homes and futures they left behind, he is able to look back on the memories of that time almost fondly. But he is terrible at forgetting the faces of those who died, and so the party, the day, has driven him mad with guilt.

Jyn must sense his silent despair. She nudges him with her elbow as they move, calling his attention away from imaginary sound bites of piercing screams. She dressed nicely for the gathering. Her usual dark and muted clothes have been swapped for a vibrant, blue dress that sets off the porcelain colour of her skin. Beautiful. She is stunning. A stain on her lips has turned them a deep berry shade, and it is too many seconds before he realises he has been staring far too long at her mouth.

He thinks the tension between them grows daily. Inch by inch, it has crept into a sentient being. Soon, it will devour them. He cannot wait, and yet he is equally terrified. There is something sweet and innocent about their dance. He does not want it to end.

“I know, Cassian,” she says. She knows everything. Sometimes, most times, he swears she can read his mind.

They are nearly to her room.

“What do you know?” he prods, though he is already sure of her response.

“I know you’re thinking about them. I am, too.”

She is magnificent. Her ears are inside his head, listening to his every thought.

Cassian stops just outside Jyn’s room. She leans against her closed door, her key dangling on her finger. She is looking up at him. Her hazel eyes are all-seeing.

Cassian longs to depart and refuse to join in this conversation, but he knows how strenuous it is for Jyn to open to him, to anyone. He supposes it is only fair if he does the same for her.

“It is difficult,” he says, thumbing around his brain for the right words, “to not think of them. They should be here, celebrating with us. Or we should be with them. I would not mind that.”

That last part slipped from his mouth without his consent.

“Cassian, you can’t mean that.” Jyn’s cold, urgent hand wraps around his wrist. He notices her rounded nails—they are painted a silvery, reflective colour. He can see his pained expression distorted in them.

“Why can’t I?” he asks. “Why do we survive and they do not? Why are we basking in glory while they are ash scattered in the stars?”

His words are engorged with zeal. He is warm with anger and shame.

Jyn’s hand remains tight. Her thumb is pressed hard into his flesh. She must feel his heart rattling against her.

“Come inside,” she insists softly.

Cassian shakes his head, eyes downturned. “No, no, I can’t,” he says. “I must go back to my own room.”

He attempts to remove his wrist from Jyn’s hand, but she only applies more strength. “Jyn,” he hums, unsure of what to say.

Her eyes are blazing when he looks at her. “Stay.”

And so he does. She pulls him inside her room and sits him on her sofa, a glass of water (or is it a clear kind of alcohol?) in his hand. She busies herself momentarily with changing out of her dress, returning to the lounge in her regular sleep clothes.

This is the Jyn he knows. The inspiring woman who managed to completely change the course of his life. The woman for whom he first disobeyed orders.

“I have some spare clothes if you want to get out of your suit,” she offers, gesturing to the black and white garments draped over his body.

Cassian stares down at the suffocating outfit for which he spent all morning searching. It is so tight. “Yes,” he agrees, placing the glass of liquid on Jyn’s small table and standing. He goes over to her. “Where are they?”

She has bent her neck up so their eyes are locked. There is a flickering in the lights, and he watches her pupils enlarge and shrink as they adjust to the sudden changes. “In my room, to the far left of the closet.”

Silently, Cassian finds the clothes. They are hidden behind a row of Jyn’s daily outfits. He glides an open palm over the fabrics. They are soft and sweet-scented. Eventually, he reaches the male garments, his from a time near their return from Scarif when Jyn, who feared nightmares, begged him to share her bed for the night.

They remain here, just in case.

He quickly removes his suit and slips into the crisp trousers and loose top, trying not to think of her screams from that night.

Upon his return to Jyn’s lounge, he finds her sitting on the sofa. Propped against her knees is an open book he has never before seen. She is always hiding books from him. He doesn’t read nearly as much as her—his stimulation comes from visuals more than words—but she still insists on hoarding her collection of novels and histories.

He thinks it is because of how close death came to capturing them on the beach in Scarif. When they returned to the Rebel base, hailed as the galaxy’s saviours, he became aware of how often she would creep into corners with a book. It is one thing the Empire has not been able to take from her. One thing that is unequivocally still hers. An escape whenever those horrid nightmares get too much.

“What is that one about?”

Jyn startles at the sound of his voice and quickly closes the book. “Nothing,” she says, the lights once again shuddering.

Peculiar. Cassian stares at the bulb above Jyn’s head. “How can it be about nothing?” he asks absently.

“It just can.”

Cassian hears the same distance in Jyn’s voice. The electricity on Hoth has always been dependable. Why, then, are the lights wavering in their power?

Just as this thought crosses his mind, a blackness spreads over them. It fills Cassian’s nostrils, it seeps inside his mouth. He hears a muffled, panicked gasp and immediately reaches out for Jyn. She has stood, and her body is near him. He touches her. Her skin has risen with gooseflesh.

“Jyn,” he breathes. She is shaking beneath his touch. “Jyn, are you all right?”

Again, that frightened sob meets his ears. She is most certainly not all right.

“Come here.” Cassian steps in what he assumes to be Jyn’s direction, holding both of his arms out for her. She is there, stepping into his grasp, resting her head against his chest. “Do you have a flashlight? Candles?”

“Yes,” Jyn replies, her throat quaking. “In, um, in my bedroom there are some candles and a matchbox.”

Bedroom. The trouble with their base is there is no natural light in their living chambers. Cassian is blind. Searching for Jyn’s room in the total darkness will be a task. His eyes have not adjusted at all.

“Okay, you stay here and I will find them.”

“No.” Jyn removes her head from his chest. “I’m coming too. We can set the candles up in my room.”

Cassian says no more and they set off, bumping into many things before they reach Jyn’s bedroom. She is holding on to him as they hunt for the bookshelf upon which lies the candles. All the while, Cassian wonders how long Jyn has been terrified of the dark.

Eventually, they are able to locate the shelf. Jyn strikes a match and lights each of the five candles. As the room illuminates, Cassian watches the tremor in her hands dissipate. Once the candles are lit, Jyn moves them one by one to the dresser in front of her bed.

There is no question as to whether or not he will remain with her. They settle underneath the heavy duvet on Jyn’s queen-sized bed, shivering with the lack of heat.

“Do you think it’s an attack?” she asks. Her skin glows a pale orange.

“They would have told us somehow. It’s been ten minutes and nobody is screaming. I think it is just a power outage.”

Jyn accepts his response. She moves gradually closer to him until their legs are touching. She is warm against him, a welcome opposition to the bitter cold that is settling in the room. They stay like this for some time as the room fills with the scent of fir trees and sea water, their eyes locked and breaths matched.

Since their return from Scarif, bloodied and worn, they have steadily found themselves growing closer. It has been a painful process. They have so many wounds, both on the surface and hidden beneath their skin. But they are the same wounds.

Like him, she was raised to fight. To rebel. Her parents are lost to her, just as his are to him. They bond over these things. It pulls them towards each other, as if their shared hardships are magnetised.

After all, this is not the first night he has found himself in her bed.

“It started when I was six,” Jyn says, disturbing the silence. “After my mum died. I was hidden in this underground chamber waiting for Gerrera. At the time, I wasn’t scared. I was sad more than anything. But after Gerrera came and took me, I couldn’t stand the darkness. It petrifies me.” Anger and shame ride upon her words.

“Everybody is afraid of the dark,” he says. “At one time or another, we all hesitate when we turn out the lights.”

She looks into his eyes earnestly. Frigid air washes over them, causing their bodies to unconsciously move closer.

“But I shouldn’t be scared.”

Cassian clicks his tongue. “Why shouldn’t you be scared?”

“Because I am a soldier. A fighter. I’m the one who managed to get the Death Star plans and send them up. They were celebrating us tonight, Cassian. Our bravery and strength. And the dark isn’t just scary—it’s suffocating.”

Cassian shifts slightly onto his side. He carefully reaches out and cups his icy hand over Jyn’s cheek. “Fear is what makes us human. You are still strong, Jyn. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Cassian,” Jyn breathes, his name billowing out of her lungs in a cloud of smoke. “What are we afraid of?”

Confusion sweeps through him. “What do you mean?” he asks, moving his eyes briefly to the two of candles stuttering on the dresser. Still, he keeps his hand against her cheek.

“I mean—why are we avoiding this? What’s stopping us?”

Within his mind, it clicks as to what she is referring. He drops his hand. “I . . . I do not have an answer.”

It’s a lie. He has an answer. He has many. She is right to ask what they are afraid of, because fear is what drives them apart even when they are so close. It is a hidden type of fear, one she perhaps has not dwelled on. They are too aware of how things end to put aside their inhibitions. Death is what stops them, and it is a powerful repellent.

Still, he imagines their joyful union at times. But it’s always only pretend.

Besides, why should they be together when so many are not? It is hardly fair.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” Jyn’s confession pulls him from his mind. She is so very near to him now.

The chill in the air burns his skin.

“Jyn”— But what can he say.

“No, don’t pull away from me,” she begs. Hurriedly, she lays her hands on his shoulders, sliding them until they are clasped behind his neck. Automatically, his arms move around her. “I’m done feeling like I don’t deserve to be happy. We do, Cassian.” She whispers the last bit, but her mouth is hovering over his ear and it sounds as though she has shouted.

Cassian does not say anything. He doesn’t wish to ruin the moment with his shivering voice. Instead of speaking, he tilts his head and inches it steadily forward until their noses brush. There is a sharp inhale of breath. He closes his eyes, cancelling out the dim glow from the candles, and finds the softness of Jyn’s lips with his own.

He is done, too.

The kiss is long. It is drawn out—a consequence of the months of accumulated tension. Cassian thinks it is the sweetest moment of his life. A hunger awakens inside of him as their mouths dance. His hold on Jyn grows firmer, and she responds to his grip with a heavy, open-mouthed pant.

Lungs burning, pleading for oxygen, Cassian pulls away. He rests his forehead against Jyn’s, an incredulous laugh on his lips.

“We’re mad,” she tells him. Her orange eyes meet his. “How long?”

Cassian flits briefly through his memories of their early time together. “Oh, probably from the moment I met you. But we were on a mission, you were a scoundrel . . . it would have never worked. And you?”

“Much later than that,” she says, the words topped with sarcasm.

As Cassian laughs, his body no longer feeling the biting cold, the room is suddenly bathed in light. The pair jump, knocking their foreheads together.

“Ouch,” Jyn mewls, straightening. She rubs the space between her eyebrows. “Nice timing.”

Cassian goes to blow out the candles. He watches the grey smoke swirl and with it carry the gorgeous scent of burning oceans and firewood. He hears Jyn slide from the bed and he turns around, leaning against the dresser.

“You’ll stay?” she asks.

His lips pull up in a half-smile. “Of course.”


	2. Nightlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so incredibly much for everyone who has decided to follow this story's journey. These characters are near and dear to my heart, and I am really glad you are enjoying the situation I have decided to put them in!

Trouble. When he was a child, when his parents were still his guardians, his mother used to call him Trouble. Things broke when he walked passed them. Plants got de-potted. Guns went off. It used to drive her up the wall. He spent many days and nights locked in his room as punishment.

Cassian thinks of his mother in this very moment as the fearsome Han Solo creeps in his direction, his face as bright red and glowing as Darth Vader's lightsaber. She would have stood to the side, clicking her heel against the floor, the world Trouble balanced on her tongue.

This time, he agrees. Whatever happens next is his fault entirely, and nothing he says or does will change that.

"You're a dead man, Andor," Solo announces as he continues his approach.

Cassian's hands are held out in front of him. He backs away slowly, so as to not aggravate Han any further. "I'm sorry," he repeats, the base of his spine hitting a desk of buttons and levers.

There is nowhere to run. A crowd has gathered. People of all shapes and sizes, job titles and ranks, have come to watch the famous Cassian Andor get pummelled by the great Han Solo. He does not blame them for their curiosity. He only wishes one of the alien lifeforms had the ability to calm the gunslinging space cowboy.

Solo is almost to him now. Cassian can see the lines of his forehead. They are deep and angry. Steam pours from every visible orifice, and Cassian is fully aware of what will happen next.

Han Solo lifts his arm, hand rounded in the shape of a fist. He pulls his elbow back before catapulting it foreword, striking Cassian's jaw with his knuckles. The explosion propels the captain backwards. He falls against the panel behind him, the back of his head smacking into buttons. Somewhere, an alarm blares.

Again, Solo's powerful blow is driven into his face. Cassian's nose crunches. He crumples to the floor.

Han looms over him. "Whoops," the former smuggler growls before retreating from the room.

The wind has been knocked from Cassian's lungs. He lays there, struggling for breath. And the worst part, the part that twists his guts the most—it feels good. Welcome. Sickly, he revels in the agony, hoping Solo will return and bend over his bleeding form and drive his fist further into his flesh until his skull cracks and he is no more.

But the gunslinger has left to the sound of scurrying footsteps as those who had gathered to watch the bear bating rush back to their work. And he lies there, his face growing warm as blood spills from his nose in an endless stream.

"You should have known better than to insult his ship, Cassian."

Cassian does not need to open his eyes to know who is speaking. Princess Leia. She is there whenever Han Solo's rage gets the better of him.

He groans in response to her reprimand.

"You two are one in the same," she tuts.

Opening his eyes gradually, Cassian pants, "We are nothing alike."

The princess's tongue is resting against her teeth. "Uh-huh," she amuses, lifting his arm and placing it over her shoulders. She heaves. "Come on, then. Let's get that checked out."

Cassian is guided to Hoth's large infirmary. The loss of blood is making the world around him wobble, and he relies far too heavily on Leia's support as she walks with him. Nurses take him from the Princess when they arrive and they escort him to a bed. They strip him of his bloodied uniform, handing him a scratchy change of clothes to which he shakes his head.

Five minutes later, he is bandaged and resting in only his pants.

"Where is he?"

Cassian hears Jyn's anxious voice outside the curtain behind which he hides. Seconds later, the veil is being lifted to the side and Jyn's figure is in his eyesight.

Even after all this time, looking at her manages to pull all of the air from his lungs. Despite the pain—which has been dulled slightly by a reliever they forced him to take—he finds himself smiling as she steps into his small, makeshift room. Her face is distorted in concern. Her teeth worry her bottom lip.

When she reaches his bedside, she tilts her head and squints. Observing the damage, he assumes.

She runs a hand through his hair. "It's all around the base," she says, thumb brushing his forehead. "Captain Andor versus Han Solo."

Cassian revels in her touch. They have been apart these past few weeks. It has been like torture. Having her near him, stroking him, is enough to draw out the lingering discomfort from Solo's attack.

He looks up at her, imagining how horribly mangled his face is. His nose is bent at a funny angle even with the bandage they have placed over it.

"You shouldn't have said anything bad about the Falcon. You know better," Jyn maintains. He has heard this before.

Cassian wraps his hand around Jyn's wrist, eyes apologetic. "I am sorry this happened on your birthday."

Jyn bows her head. Her thumb has ceased its dance across his forehead. "The day isn't important. Just another number," she insists. Last year, she said the same thing. He does not believe her. "They, uh . . . they said I could take you home. Let's get out of here."

He will not press the matter any further. He is far too weak to form coherent sentences.

Cassian, half-naked and numb, allows himself to be taken to Jyn's living quarters. _Home_. He dares not think what this means.

She sits him down on her soft bed, fleeing into her small kitchen for a moment. Glass clinks outside the bedroom and he hears a tap running. Moments later, Jyn has returned with a glass bowl filled with water and a white cloth. She hovers above his exposed thighs, her knees either side of him.

Ever so gently, she dips the cloth into the water and places the dampened fabric against the area around his nose. Hissing in pain, he flinches.

"Sorry," she mumbles, quickly pulling her hand back.

"It is all right," he promises breathlessly. He has been wounded countless times before. Pain is a welcome friend. "Jyn, do not worry about hurting me."

Sighing, Jyn dips the cloth into the water again and brushes it against Cassian's bruised face. He grits his teeth, hands clenched into balls at his sides. She wipes at the dried, crusted blood slowly. The white cloth turns a pale red, the water gains a pink tinge, as he is cleaned.

Blood must be everywhere. The removal process takes longer than he had expected. Jyn's hand eventually travels into the bristles of his beard and down his neck. Warm, rose-tinted water drips in lines to his belly.

There is something incredibly intimate about this, he cannot help but realise as she moves even further. The cloth runs over his chest. It sets his insides alight sweetly.

In the year since the power outage, since they confessed, their relationship has evolved steadily. Their respective rooms hold more and more of the other as time passes. He keeps several items of clothing here; there is a bookshelf in his lounge filled with a small collection of Jyn's books. As they began spending nights together, he wondered if perhaps her fear of the dark would dissipate. It has not. But she is still a brave fighter, miles stronger than he will ever be. His pride is not dented by his inability to heal her loathing of the darkness.

"There," Jyn says, placing the red-stained washcloth in the bowl. She swipes her fingertips watchfully over his clean face. "You're all done."

She begins moving off of him, but Cassian brings his hands to her hips and holds her in place. He angles his head upward, capturing Jyn's lips in a blistering kiss. Their mouths open in unison, and Cassian is about to turn them over on the bed when Jyn's nose presses against his bruise.

Black spots appear behind his closed eyelids. Jolting back, Cassian moans as his face begins to throb. Jyn, realising what has happened, clasps her hands over her swollen mouth.

She moves her hands to his shoulders, knocking their foreheads together. "You have a death wish, don't you?"

Like always, she has snuck inside of his mind. Her eyes are pleading with his. She is begging him to speak.

"You do," she says before he can distract her with lies, "that's why you keep taunting Han. It's why you always, _always_ sign up for missions that take you away for days at a time. You're asking for death to find you."

Cassian seizes Jyn's shirt abruptly. She emits a soft gasp and closes her eyes, ready for whatever answer he decides to give her. "It hurts. Every day, it hurts." These are not the words he meant to say, but they slip past him before he can swallow them. His throat is sore. Burning.

But Jyn is there, holding onto him, lips wobbling in time with his. She kisses his forehead. Pulls him close to her, and he rests his head against her chest. Against his ear, her heart thrashes.

"You're okay." She says it over and over.

Eventually, the fire in his throat simmers to an ember. It does not burn so much.

He will sometimes feel like he will never be okay again. Like this shame and bitter anger will be his companions for the rest of time. But then he will lie with Jyn and she will stroke his hair, or kiss his lips, or she will find him while he works simply because she wishes to see his face, and he decides that he is strong enough to let go of the aches and the sorrow.

Jyn makes everything better. She makes everything okay.

"I need to take these through to the kitchen," Jyn whispers into his ear, disrupting the stillness.

Nodding, Cassian releases his hold on her. She slips off of the bed, careful not to spill any of the bloodied water, and retreats from the room. Jyn is gone for only a second before Cassian remembers the day. He ignores the soreness radiating from his face and goes into Jyn's closet.

Above the clothes is a shelf Jyn cannot reach without a ladder, which she does not own. Luckily, Cassian is several inches taller and needs no such help. He grabs the poorly-wrapped present he stored in the far corner months ago and exits the closet, a nervous kind of excitement coursing through him. Jyn enters the bedroom and eyes him curiously.

"What were you doing?" she asks, a distrustful hint in her words.

"Nothing," he says hurriedly. He hides the small box behind his back and gives what he hopes is a normal-looking smile.

Jyn does not look convinced in the slightest. "Yeah. You know I don't believe you, right?"

This is not the day he had planned for them. Before Han Solo decided to become an overprotective moron (and before Cassian decided to cruelly bring up the issues plaguing the Millennium Falcon), he was on his way out to get Jyn so they could enjoy the rest of the day in peace. This gift is all he has left of that original itinerary.

Perhaps it will be enough.

"We have been through so much, Jyn," he remarks, moving closer to where she stands in the doorway. He sees bark coloured stains on her hands. "I wanted today to be a good day. I'm sorry to have ruined that."

"Cassian," Jyn sighs. "You didn't ruin anything. I told you, I don't care about birthdays."

Cassian's mouth lifts in a half-smile. He reaches out with one hand and grabs onto Jyn. "But I do. Especially about yours."

Jyn's eyes shine in the dim, yellowish glow of the room. She squeezes his hand and interlocks their fingers. Callouses from both of their palms, a side effect of years of military training, rub together. They fit so perfectly.

"Are you going to tell me what you're holding in your hand?"

Cassian is quick with his response. "You."

"Your other hand, smart-ass," Jyn says through a roll of her eyes.

Laughing softly, Cassian reveals the gift in a flourish. "Oh, you mean this." He offers it to Jyn. "It is your present."

Jaw hanging open, Jyn grabs at the box. She lets go of Cassian and tears through the paper, opening the lid when she has revealed the container.

If her mouth could open any further, it would be on the floor. Her hazel eyes are brimming with saltwater. She keeps glancing up at him, and his nerves are swimming. Reaching inside of the box, she takes out the gift and allows the cardboard to fall.

"Cassian," she breathes. "It's beautiful."

"A nightlight. I . . . I made it," he explains. He points to a socket by the bed. "I thought you could plug it in right over there."

Jyn, in a rare explosion of emotion and energy, falls into Cassian's arms. She kisses him fiercely, jerking away when he yelps. The remaining capillaries beneath the skin of his nose burst. His face pulses.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I forgot," she says, but there is still a trace of happiness in her voice.

Cassian moves his head in protest. He leans in close, pecking Jyn on the lips briefly. "It will take some time to heal, but really," he says, "do not apologise. I gladly accept the pain."

"Of course you do," Jyn quips. She stares at the circular, orange-bathed object in her hand. "It really is stunning," she commends. "Why a nightlight, though?"

Cassian touches his thumb to her chin and lifts her face. Their eyes latch and a wave of admiration threads through Cassian's veins. "So you never again have to fear the dark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Han would totally butt heads like this. Do not try to tell me otherwise!
> 
> Third and final chapter is in the works. Crossing my fingers it'll be done by the end of the week. It's going to be a bit longer than the first two.


	3. My Light Will Guide You Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this journey. It's been an exciting ride, if, at times, difficult. I hope this final part is what you were looking for. If it is not, I'm sorry. 
> 
> There are going to be some canon changes I've made, but I tried my best to stick as close to the original story as I could. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Beautiful will never be enough to properly describe Jyn. He understands so well how clichéd the notion is, but she has always been more than simply beautiful. She is strong as well. Stronger than him, than anyone he knows. She is a complex creature. Even as she sleeps, he imagines she dreams of protecting the galaxy from evil. 

He is lucky to know her. Lucky to share her bed, to be the one to whom she spills her secrets. Of which, he has learned over the years, there are many. In return, he allows her access to the long-hidden secrets he has tried for all of his life to forget. He speaks to her of his training. Confesses that he has never felt more powerful and feared than when he is holding a gun. He tells her how frightened of himself he is at times.

And yet they still hold each other. Despite their sins, they will never let each other go. They have been through too much together to allow anything so trivial to separate them. Every day, Cassian is more and more thankful they managed to escape the Death Star’s blast, even if his gratitude is always mixed in with grief and guilt over those who they did not manage to save. A guilt which will soon be magnified as they again celebrate their triumph over the Empire. 

No, he must not let himself dwell on this issue. He spends too much of his time wishing things could have played out differently. He dreams at night of that white light capturing him. Death should have found him that day. If it had, he would not be forced to relive those terrifying moments on Scarif. He would no longer hear the petrified screams as the planet imploded and became dust. 

Jyn despises it when he mentions these things. Truthfully, he does as well. These thoughts distract him too often. There are more important things to think about. More important things to do. He must remember that when he is not tortured by memories of Scarif, he is happy. Happier than he could have ever dreamed. Because of Jyn, he smiles regularly. He laughs. The old him, the person he was before he met the woman sleeping peacefully beside him, would never have found humour in the things he does now. 

Life is better with Jyn. He can never forget this. 

Cassian cannot help himself—he props his head upon his open palm, reaches out, and begins running the tips of his fingers down Jyn’s unclothed back. Gooseflesh rises on her soft skin to meet his touch. Like the fool he is, he feels his lips pull at her body’s instinctive reaction. The longer he spends with his hand against her spine, the more the muscles twitch as he passes them. Soon, her breath quickens. She is stirring.

Following several seconds of Cassian’s teasing touch, Jyn rolls over on to her back. The nightlight, which has remained plugged into the bedroom wall for nearly a year now, throws shadows over her body. Again, he cannot help thinking how insufficient the word _beautiful_ is as a description of this woman. 

Jyn is smiling up at him sleepily, the way she does when she is lucky enough to rest without nightmares. Seeing her happy—blissful, almost—causes Cassian’s heart to tremble. 

“You were watching me sleep again,” she says.

He has been caught. “Only for a little while.”

Laughing, Jyn moves on to her side. Cassian lowers his head. Their faces are centimetres apart. He likes it best when they are this close. 

“When do you have to leave for work?” she asks.

Cassian looks over at the clock on his bedside table, pressing a button so it lights up. “Just over an hour. What about you?”

“About the same,” she says. Jyn eyes him curiously. “What woke you up?”

Cassian shakes his head, but Jyn’s stare is too compelling. His mouth opens of its own volition. “I had a dream,” he confesses, his heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with Jyn. “We were on Scarif and we did not get away from the blast in time. We held each other on the beach as we waited for the light to take us.”

Jyn’s hand cups his cheek. She strokes his stubble with her thumb in soothing circles. Each year, when the celebration of their victory against the Empire approaches, his head fills with these sorts of things. Jyn knows this and she works hard to comfort him. 

He does not deserve her goodness. 

Cassian grabs her wrist and kisses her palm. “I’m all right,” he insists, but they spend enough time together that he doubts he has convinced her. 

She smiles again, warmer and kinder than before, and silently closes the minuscule gap between them. He sighs into the kiss. This is truly his home. Jyn’s bare chest presses hard into his, and he is moments away from turning them over when the sirens begin. There is a moment—nothing more than a millisecond—of sheer panic. Their lips detach and they stare at each other, eyes wide with fear. 

They have never heard the sirens before like this. The base tests them every few months, but they are able to fully comprehend what their blaring racket mean. Hoth is under attack.

Understanding that danger is afoot, Jyn and Cassian leap off of the bed, blindly searching for their clothes. In the midst of pulling his trousers over his legs, Cassian hears a distant rumbling and is hit squarely in the chest by a bolt of adrenaline. His mind clears and he goes instantly into soldier mode. They are warriors. This is what they have spent their lives training for. 

They dress in no time, and soon they are fumbling in the dark towards the door. Outside, there is a combination of steady footfalls and running thumps. Whispers and shouting conversations. He grabs Jyn’s hand and they set out, leaving behind the life they spent three years constructing. 

Chaos surrounds them as they head towards their stations. Let it be said that the Rebels have been prepared for a breach. They each have a duty. He is to pilot a getaway ship, Jyn is to gather intelligence. It is hard to see where they are going, however. Hundreds of people, some of alien origin, crowd the small hallways, each in search of their own post. Some look terrified. Most look ready for whatever danger lies ahead. 

Cassian travels through passageways as quickly as he can with Jyn trailing closely behind him. They reach an opening and spot Princess Leia throwing around orders to other Rebels. Her eyes catch them. When she is finished commanding a group of people, she speedily walks over. 

“You know your assignments, I assume” she says, staring them both down.

Jyn nods. “Yes,” she says firmly, wisps of her hair she was unable to tie into her bun flying about her head as Rebels scrambled around them in search of their stations. “Leia, what’s happening?”

“We’ve been discovered by the Empire.” There is a heaviness to her words, as if she cannot believe that this day has arrived. 

Cassian knew of the breach, of course. Why else would the base be evacuating? But to hear it from the Princess makes it real. Scary. Cassian’s grip on Jyn’s hand tightens. Her eyes find his as Leia shouts something at a soldier going the wrong way. She looks caught between frightened and ready for battle. They have had almost three years’ rest from the Empire, but they are fighters before anything else. 

Leia turns back to them. “Cassian, you’ve got Rogue One,” she says. Bodhi will not be pleased. Cassian has spent many hours becoming familiar with the ship since they landed on Hoth, though. He is almost better at piloting it than Bodhi. “And Jyn, you’ll grab the data from your section before taking off with Cassian. You must work fast. Understood?”

The pair nod in tandem. Usually, Leia would have laughed at their synchronised moves, but there is no time for laughter now. The Princess gives them a stern nod before retreating, her mouth already open as she approaches somebody doing their job incorrectly. 

Jyn turns to Cassian. She is wide-eyed. It reminds Cassian of the handful of photographs he has seen of her from when she was a child. In each of them, she looks as though she has a gun pointed at her head. It isn’t a fearful look so much as a look of pain and confusion. It breaks Cassian’s heart to see her like this. 

He is about to say that they must split up—he is needed at Rogue One, Jyn is needed at her station—when there is a loud explosion. The floor rumbles and shakes, knocking him and Jyn down. Another bang rings out. Rubble and debris collapse around them, coating Cassian in a mountain of dust. The ceiling has started caving in. 

Cassian lies on the floor, ears ringing, for much too long. He stares at the sky through the hole the blasts have made in the ceiling, wondering what weapons are being used to destroy them. He only feels he can move again when the blockage in his ears passes. Blinking to clear specks of soot from his eyes, he goes up on his elbows and surveys the damage. There are men and women and aliens slumped on the ground. Some are wounded, but most are doing their best to get back up. 

“You are hurt.”

The voice does not belong to Jyn. Cassian looks up, his head pounding to the beat of the sirens. K-2 has found him. 

“I am not,” Cassian says. He heaves himself up, looking around for any sign of Jyn. 

“You are,” K-2 maintains, reaching out for Cassian’s right arm. The pilot snatches his arm away with a hiss. “See. I told you you were hurt.”

But Cassian is not listening to K-2’s gloating. Jyn is nowhere to be seen. He moves his body around in circles, his head swerving every which way. Perhaps she had been thrown by the explosions or is buried beneath scraps. Cassian drops to his knees and tosses sheets of metal and rock aside. 

He finds nothing. 

“What are you doing? Did you lose something?”

Cassian glares at K-2. “Yes!” he shouts. He gets to his feet and grabs the droid by his metal arms. “Jyn. Did you see her?”

“I did not.”

“Are you lying to me?”

K-2 takes on an affronted look. “Why would I do that?”

“You know why.”

“I assure you, I do not. In the past, I have displayed a distrust of Jyn Erso. Is this why you believe me to be lying?”

“Of course it’s why!”

“You know as well as I that Jyn has grown on me in these last few years. I detest your suggestion that I would lie about her whereabouts.”

Yes, Cassian knows K-2 and Jyn are not at each other’s throats the way they once were, but K-2 is tricky. “But you swear you have not seen her?” 

“I have not seen her.”

Cassian brushes bits of the Hoth base from his clothes. “Then I must find her,” he says. He takes one step in the direction of their room, but a tight squeeze on his shoulder stops him from moving any further. “K-2, release me immediately.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. You have a duty to the Rebellion. You must go to Rogue One.” 

“No.” Cassian shakes his head, dust flying from his hair. “No, I must find Jyn. Let go of me, K-2.” 

K-2’s grip does not lessen. “You are a soldier above anything else. The Rebellion needs you.”

“What if Jyn needs me?” he challenges. 

“Jyn is brave and perfectly capable of protecting herself.”

“Give me the probability she is injured.”

“I do not think that would be a good”—

—“Now, K,” Cassian interrupts. 

K-2 pauses for a brief moment. There are screams of agony echoing around the base. They are bringing back painful memories of Scarif, but Cassian shoos them away. He is focused on getting Jyn. He can fall into his dark memories later. 

“There is a 99.2 percent chance Jyn is hurt. If she was beside you when the building collapsed”—

Cassian has heard all he needs to. Using all of his remaining strength, he manages to break free of K-2’s clutches. 

“Where are you going?” K-2 calls.

“To find Jyn.”

Thumping footsteps reach him in no time. K-2 once again caps his shoulder, harder than before. “No. She has a duty, as do you. Rogue One is where you need to be. This base is moments away from being destroyed. There are people who need you to get them to safety.”

Cassian has never been so sure that K-2 has a soul buried somewhere beneath his chest plate. The droid is right. He is a fighter for the Rebellion before anything else, and he cannot pick and choose when he wishes to be at its service. 

He must have faith that Jyn is okay. Without that, he will go mad.

“Okay,” he says heavily. “Let’s find Rogue One.”

K-2 releases him and they set off in search of the ship. Once it is located, Cassian climbs aboard and takes his place in the cockpit, K-2 by his side. He sends a message through the intercom to the passengers, assuring them he will get them all to safety, and flips some switches to get the ship ready for takeoff. 

He will not think of Jyn. If he allows his mind to slip to thoughts of her (where she might be, if she is wounded or, Heaven forbid, dead), he will be unable to complete this task. And this is an important task, one he has trained for. He checks the time. He has only two minutes before it is his turn to leave the base. 

The two minutes are gone in a flash. He is being told he must vacate. 

“They’re getting very angry,” K-2 proclaims. 

“I know. Go, check if Jyn has boarded the ship,” he orders. He ignores the voice in his ear ordering him to leave. 

K-2 exits the cockpit. He is back within fifteen seconds. “She is not here.”

Cassian’s body deflates. He clenches his eyes and balls his hands into fists. This cannot be happening. They had this planned down to the smallest, most insignificant detail. He never thought they would be separated, though. That was never an option. 

He cannot leave without her. He cannot. 

Rogue One has begun to feel incredibly small. It is like the walls of the ship are shrinking. Black spots impede his line of sight as sweat spills from his pores. This is true panic unlike he has ever experienced.

“ _Rogue One, you are to leave the base at once or else we will send someone to take your place_.”

“No need for that. We are just having some technical difficulties.” K-2 responds to the order airily. He flicks Cassian’s shoulder and says sternly, “We must get out of here.”

“Jyn,” is all he can say. God, he feels so weak. 

“Your duty, Captain. Jyn would not be pleased to know you were stalling.”

K-2 has it wrong. He isn’t stalling. He is trying to fight this crippling, all-consuming terror that Jyn is lying facedown in a pool of blood. 

“ _Alright, we’re sending someone on board._ ”

“Oh, no you won’t.” K-2 grabs Cassian by the collar and moves his metal hand over Cassian’s face. “Wake up. Snap out of it. Get us out of here before we’re all killed!”

Surprisingly, K-2’s attack clears his head. His instincts take over and he follows the path out of the hanger, shooting off into the sky. Out in the open, he is confronted immediately by the battle. The sun reflects off of the snowy Hoth ground, making it difficult to see. AT-ATs creep closer to the base. Their large legs knock Rebel ships out of the air. P-Towers fire at the large monsters to no avail. Cassian spots several T-47s surrounding the Walkers. One crumples into the snow, taking a T-47 with it. 

Cassian flies Rogue One—who is a large, hardly inconspicuous cargo shuttle—around the Walkers, avoiding shots left and right. He weaves with precision, his blood supply spiked once again with a barrel of adrenaline. It seems as though it takes forever, but eventually Rogue One is in the clear. 

* * *

“You are one-hundred percent sure she isn’t there, Bodhi?”

“I’ve asked for every inch of the ship to be searched. Sorry, Cassian, but she isn’t here.”

Cassian bangs the radio against his head. 

“You’ve tried all of the other ships?”

Pressing the call button, Cassian presses his lips to the radio. “I have. All of the ships that have responded have said the same thing. Nobody has seen her.” 

“Maybe the ship she’s on has lost its communication. There’s no reason to think she didn’t make it out. Wait until we get to Haven.”

“That is what I said,” K-2 butts in. 

Cassian throws him a death glare. “All right. I will see you there, Bodhi. Be safe.”

“She’s fine, Cassian,” Bodhi says.

Cassian does not respond. He throws the radio to the floor and runs his hands through his hair. Bodhi cannot know she is fine. None of them know if she’s even alive. K-2 keeps insisting she is not in danger, but Cassian heard the droid muttering the likelihood she was dead during his call with Bodhi. The number is too high. 

Maybe she isn’t dead. Maybe she has been captured by the Empire. He spotted Snowtroopers infiltrating the base. One of them could have recognised her and taken her as a prisoner. Krennic may be dead, but the Erso name still lives on in infamy. They would surely punish her for the crimes of her father. 

He is spiralling. He has been spiralling since they left Hoth. This is why he was told to never form bonds. During his training, it was drilled into his young mind that relationships were futile. Energy spent maintaining relationships could be used to help fight the Empire. If you weren’t concerned for anybody else, you could perform your job with nothing holding you back. 

His teachers would be so disappointed. 

But he could not have put an end to his feelings for Jyn even if he had wanted to. They were there from the second he laid eyes on her all of those long years ago. Even after she did her best to run from him, the roots had already sprung up from his toes. They spent the next weeks spreading upwards until they coiled steadfastly around his brain. 

They were not going anywhere. No weapon, Rebel or Imperial or otherwise, could destroy them. 

“We are almost at Haven,” K-2 announces. 

Cassian is pulled from his trance by the droid’s mechanical voice. He swipes at his face, feeling a wetness coating his fingertips. “Okay,” he says gruffly. “Let the others know. Tell them to gather their things.”

K-2 does as he is told. Clearly, he senses Cassian’s melancholy shift. Cassian flies Rogue One through the stars, remembering the way it felt—like his body was coming alive after lying dormant for so long—when Jyn entered his life.

* * *

The Millennium Falcon has gone missing. When they reach Haven, exiting out of hyperspace, and climb aboard Redemption, everybody is panicking. Princess Leia, Han Solo, and Chewbacca have not been in contact for some time. People are fearing the worst.

Cassian could not care less about the missing Falcon. He flees from the mass of Rebels discussing the Falcon’s disappearance and searches for Jyn. There are wounded soldiers everywhere on the ship caked in blood and grime. It is difficult for him to figure out who they are, but he can tell none of them are Jyn. 

Bodhi catches up to him midway through his hunt. “Cassian, I’ve found her.”

A light sparks inside of Cassian. He did not realise how empty he had been feeling. He follows behind Bodhi, speedily moving through the ship, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs. Lightyears pass as he waits for Bodhi to stop moving. They pass by more injured Rebels before the darker-skinned pilot comes to a halt. 

Surrounding them are a group of soldiers resting on medical beds. Cassian does not need to be told which is Jyn. He sees her immediately, lying on one of the stretchers with her arm in a sling. Relief foods him. He inhales a sharp, stuttered breath and falls to his knees. Her eyes are closed. Cassian spots cuts and bruises across her face. With a trembling hand, he extends his arm and cradles her cheek. It is warm—alive—in his palm. 

He expects he is crying, but he doesn’t care. Jyn is alive. There is breath in her lungs and a future for them both. Nothing else matters. 

“You’re watching me sleep.”

Hearing her voice—oh, he would know it anywhere—Cassian blinks away the tears clouding his vision. Jyn’s eyes are still closed, but she is smiling up at him knowingly. He takes her hand and squeezes softly.

Cassian laughs. There is nothing else to do. “I am,” he admits, “I am.”

Jyn’s eyes slide open. She heaves herself up and stares at the broken pilot. Suddenly, using her good arm, she pulls Cassian to her. She hugs him fiercely and he responds in kind by holding her against him. He plants kisses over her hair and her face, avoiding the numerous cuts marring her flesh as best as he can. 

When he reaches her lips, he does not hesitate to envelope them. 

“Where did you go?” he asks, pulling away.

Jyn goes for his lips again, successfully distracting him. “Can’t we discuss this later?” she says between kisses. 

Cassian is more than ready to agree, but then he remembers how terrified he has been since leaving Hoth. “No. I need to know.”

Sighing, Jyn rests her forehead against his. Their noses brush. It tickles. “When we got knocked down by the explosions, I remembered I’d forgotten something back in the room."

Cassian lifts his head. “You went back? Jyn, do you know how dangerous”—

—“Of course I knew how dangerous it was. Danger was not going to stop me. I’m fast, Cassian. I’m clever. I knew what I was doing.”

“Sorry,” he apologises quickly, bowing his head. “But what was so important?”

Jyn unwinds her arm from around his neck and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out the nightlight he had made her for her birthday the previous year. It is in perfect condition. “This,” she says. “My sun.”

Cassian buries his head in Jyn’s neck. “I was so worried about you. I had no idea where you were.”

“I know. The ship I ended up on had busted communicators.” 

Bodhi was right, then. “I’m just glad you are safe,” he says. 

Jyn’s mouth is against his ear. Her hot breaths bathe his skin and he relaxes for the first time since they first heard the sirens on Hoth. “I’m glad you are, too.”

Kissing her shoulder and then her neck, he whispers, “I love you, Jyn.”

He can hear Jyn’s smile as she responds, “I love you, too.” 


End file.
